me before he, but you before all
by dontmissthis
Summary: Just a continuation of 4x13 with what is hopefully a more fulfilling ending.


Maura shuts the door behind her as she steps into Jane's slightly-colder-than-preferred apartment, though it's perfect compared to the overly hot, stale-air of The Robber. "How long do you think Detective Frost will be mad at me?"

Making a beeline towards the fridge, Jane calls over her shoulder, "Why do you keep calling him that?"

"Because that's his professional title."

"Yeah, but he's your friend, Maura. You don't go around calling me Detective Rizzoli," Jane retorts. As she tries to pry the lid off her beer bottle with the edge of the counter, she looks up, grinning. "Or at least i hope you don't."

"Of course not," Maura replies. Shrugging, she makes her way to stand across the kitchen counter from Jane. "It just seems appropriate to refer to him as such."

"But why?"

"He and I are friends through convention. Nothing more."

The bottle precariously dangles from Jane's forefinger and thumb as she appraises the matter-of-factness Maura emits. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well I," Maura pauses as she leans forward to rest her forearms against the cool faux granite. "If it wasn't for work, or you, for that matter, he and I wouldn't speak. We only exhibit the minimal foundations of a friendship simply because of our connection through you."

Jane's eyebrows skyrocket upwards. "You can't possibly believe that."

Maura distracts herself by playing with one of the white roses still in the vase on the counter. They're pretty enough, though already starting to wilt. If they had, in fact, been bought fresh, they would've lasted a few more days before showing such signs of decay. Though Jane's living room isn't exactly the neatest thing, it still deserves better than past-their-prime flowers.

"No, Maura, I'm serious," Jane continues. "Frost likes you…when you're not meddling in his relationships, anyway."

Maura shoots her a scowl. "Jane."

A bark of laughter follows. "Too soon?"

"Very."

Reaching across the tabletop between them, Jane puts her hand on Maura's forearm and squeezes. Her face face is sincere when she speaks. "He'll get over it, Maura. Don't worry about it."

Maura worries at her bottom lip. "How do you know that?"

Retracting her soothing grasp on Maura's arm, Jane shrugs. "Who could be mad at you?"

"You," Maura supplies. "Several times before, in fact."

"Yeah, well i'm an idiot sometimes," Jane says, smiling. "No surprise there."

Maura grins, not only for Jane's attempt to reassure her, but also for Jane being…well, Jane. "Thank you."

"It's what friends are for."

Again, Maura worries at her lip, and also starts fidgeting with the very much not an engagement ring on her finger. "About that…"

The bottle pauses mid-way to Jane's lips, before lowering it when Maura doesn't say anything else. She makes a waving motion with her hand. "Maura, you can't stop after saying something like that."

"I'm sorry about today," Maura finally admits. Her words come out in an unusual-for-Maura-Isles, flustered rush. "I shouldn't interfere in your relationships either. I just…sometimes I am blinded by wanting what's best for you, when you're truly the only person who is able to decide what's best for you. So, again, I'm sorry for overstepping my bounds. That was not my intention."

"What?" Jane's brow scrunches and she stands from her leaned over position. "Um, wow. Well this makes the whole reason I dragged you back here really weird then."

"How so?"

Pulling a manilla envelope from the closest kitchen drawer, Jane tosses it across the table to land in front of Maura. Casey Jones is clearly written on the _to _address line in Jane's tilted, angular scrawl. Maura looks up from it, brows furrowed. "What's this?"

Jane motions towards it. "Open it."

"I can't open your mail, Jane. That's against federal la-"

Jane huffs. "Maura."

"Fine." Tentatively, Maura pulls open the top. Inside rests a small, drawstring baggie. She doesn't even have to open it to know what's inside. "Jane, I…I don't understand."

Shrugging, Jane takes a sip of her beer. "I'm not marrying Casey."

Maura's head tilts. "You're not?"

"Nope," Jane replies, trying just a little too hard to be nonchalant.

Almost immediately, questions burn the inside of Maura mouth, leaving her desperate to let them pour out of their confines and into the air. But instead, she says nothing and waits for Jane to come to her.

Brown glass clanks against the counter top as Jane sets down the empty bottle. Her long, strong and somehow still delicately wonderful fingers (and much more attractive without a gaudy ring), play with the beer label until it litters the counter in tiny, rolled up crumbles. "I think I-Casey, he just…he seemed like my last shot, you know?"

In reply, Maura simply nods to encourage Jane to continue.

"I mean, here I am, an almost-forty-year-old woman with no prospects to speak of. I'm reminded daily of how I'm a colossal disappointment to my grandchild-wanting, been-planning-Janie's-wedding-since-birth Catholic mother, because she and I both know that's probably never going to happen. It's…a lot to deal with, you know? So Casey…he was a chance to change that," Jane admits, quieter now, as she fidgets with her fingers. "But giving up my own happiness for someone else's isn't really worth it."

After a few moments of incredibly loud silence, Jane finally looks up and catches Maura's eyes. "Is it? Did I-Am I making a mistake by saying no?"

Maura gently covers Jane's hand with her own. Her thumb rubs across the knotted scars that still adorn her skin. "I can't answer that for you, Jane."

"Well aren't you just a lousy friend."

"It's your life, Jane," Maura continues. "Only you can decide what will make you happy."

Jane scoffs, though faint tears pricking at her eyes. Averting her eyes, she blinks rapidly. "Another beer and the Sox game is at the top of that list right about now."

"Well if you don't mind," Maura replies, smiling and tilting one shoulder up in a small shrug. "I'm free for the rest of the night."

Slowly, a soft grin forms on Jane's face. "I'll bring you a beer."

"What kind do you have left?" Maura's nose scrunches as she heads toward the living room. "You know I don't like that…what's it called?"

"Dos Equis," Jane answers, already walking towards the fridge. "And I know you don't. That's why I stopped buying it."

"I thought you stopped buying it because Casey said it made your breath smell weird."

"Ha," Jane scoffs. "He was just going to have to deal with it. But you, on the other hand…there were only so many times I could hear you say _metallic flavored cat pee _without losing my mind."

Maura gasps from her seat on the couch. "I never said that."

"But you were thinking it," Jane retorts, rounding the side table and plopping down practically on top of Maura's thigh. She holds out a light brown bottle for Maura to take.

"Estrella," Maura reads before taking a dainty sip. Her eyebrows arch upwards. "Wow, Jane, I'm impressed."

Jane smirks and takes a gulp of her own. From the corner of her eye, she watches Maura smile in return and take another sip. The floral, sweet scent of her best friend will probably linger on that couch cushion for days, and the warmth of Maura's leg is mingling comfortably against the heat of her own. Tomorrow she will be reminded of this contentment when she not only wakes up to the sight of a tousled-haired and probably snoring blonde, but sees what will inevitably be the empty carton of what was once ridiculously over-priced, Maura-approved beer.

Resolutely, with a grin, she decides: _this_ is what happiness feels like.


End file.
